


Histories, like ancient ruins, are the fictions of empires

by Aquielle



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Seriously y'all, So yeah, This was supposed to be a character study, all the rimming, because apparently I need Jesus, but it turned into blatant porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquielle/pseuds/Aquielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his eyes linger, Curt feels like he might never need a hit again. Brian will replace heroin as his main addiction. Brian will be the only drug he needs, the only one he wants to do. Heat to a simmer and inject him straight into his bloodstream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Histories, like ancient ruins, are the fictions of empires

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Holli for providing me with a reason to revisit my first fanfic love.

Curt doesn't remember the first time he met Brian Slade. He was told that it happened on a Saturday night at Max's. He doesn't remember being at the club; what he does remember is the twins, losing his lighter, and a very sparkly woman laughing at him.

Two days later he is sitting across from the most beautiful man he's ever seen and he can't understand anything being said; he's too distracted by the way the angles of Brian's face catch the multi-colored lights that bounce off the chandelier.

He asks Curt to go to England and make a record. The junkie in him, the jagged part that tears at his nerves is soothed by the curve of Brian's smile and gratitude blooms inside him.

The methadone has done its job, but he wants something stronger. He's hungry for approval, he wants to be on stage again, feel the rush of the crowds, and here before him is an angel of mercy offering him just that.

Brian Slade is lovely, glowing, brilliant and seemingly infatuated. When his eyes linger, Curt feels like he might never need a hit again. Brian will replace heroin as his main addiction. Brian will be the only drug he needs, the only one he wants to do. Heat to a simmer and inject him straight into his bloodstream.

*******

Just when he is about to give up, when he thinks nothing is ever gonna happen Brian kisses him. It's timid and Curt stills in shock for three full seconds before lunging forward to attack him. He bites and sucks at Brian's lips until he opens up. Curt wants to crawl inside him, the tight little whimpers he makes and the way he grips into Curt's hair.

He's been clean for a week and he hasn't quite regained his old sex drive, but that doesn't stop him from feasting on the luscious mouth under him.

After the first time there is no holding back, Curt can't stop himself. They kiss for what seems like hours. Like they're training for an Olympic event. Slow, wet, sucking kisses that Curt wants to survive off of for the rest of time. They push against each other and grind, locking together at sharp angles and he's never been happier to not get laid. He wants to memorize every single flavor of Brian, every look and sound.

It's not like they are avoiding sex, they are totally not doing that. Sex is most definitely a thing that is going to happen; but the anticipation is building and it makes every single touch electric.

*****

The Rainbow theatre show in London is perhaps the best Curt has ever felt in his life without the aid of chemicals. Brian transforms into a completely different person right in front of his eyes. No more sweet fanboy. No more shy, breathy kisses in hallways away from Mandy's judgmental stares. No more submission to Curt's desire to take things slow.

Maxwell Demon may be the mask that Brian wears but he is a sight to behold. His posture is different, his voice lower, even his eyes seem to have changed.

Curt gets on stage and feels the power from the crowd swelling up to meet him. His entire body is buzzing, then he sees him. Maxwell is crouching, stalking him like a jungle cat. There is a downright evil glint in his eyes. Curt thanks all the stars in the sky that he has his guitar to use as a shield and sword against the onslaught because he had no idea he could be this excited.

Mere seconds after he starts playing there is a alien being, a rock God at his feet and gripping onto the back of his pants. All he can do rely on muscle memory to continue. He feels the heat bleeding off the arms digging into his ass, the chest that heaves between his knees, his guitar being forced against his erection.

Fucking Christ what he wouldn't do to crystallize this moment and stay in it forever.

*****  
The moment has to end, but that doesn't quell the high that Curt is riding. He barely makes it backstage before Maxwell is on him, and there is no mistaking that this is not sweetly infatuated Brian.

Brian is ebullient and joyous when he touches Curt, never pushes, always submitting to Curt's whims. This celestial being coiling around the back of him like a serpent is most definitely another creature altogether, a predator.

While he has never been bothered by Brian and his near constant fooling around, he is married for fuck's sake, Brian has always been covetous of Curt's affection. The jealously was hot and lead to some hellacious blowjobs but the temper tantrums he had to put up with were far more than he thought his behavior justified.

Despite Curt's caution at this alien creature who looks just like Brian, there is a raging inferno inside him, he's not cheating, there is no catch.

Maxwell is enthralling, mesmerizing and breathing in the sweaty scent of his neck then latching on to suck dark angry marks that make his knees weak. He is fully aroused in both body and mind. Maxwell is sharp edges, bruising bites, a darker shade of the man he loves and together they could be something wonderfully feral.

A sharp inhale draws his attention to the left and a knowing smile pulls at his lips as Mandy shoots a withering look on her way to the exit. He feels an increasingly familiar sensation in his stomach, the unmistakable twinge of guilt. His smile turns to a small grimace as her eyes flash sorrowful and she nods, acquiescing before exiting the theater.

In so many ways he and Mandy are alike, hopelessly trapped in Brian's orbit. Neither willing to extract themselves from the circus that swirls around him like a whirlwind.

He closes his eyes and pushes her from his mind. Focuses on the more immediate needs of his blue-haired demon lover and the demands of his body.

“I wanted to eat you alive out there, strip you naked and suck you dry" Maxwell's lips curved into a smile against his neck, hands moving to cover his stomach, feeling the muscles jump as their leather pants slip and grind together.

Despite their public personas, Brian's polished, meticulous surface, and Curt's untamed, maniacal image they balance each other shockingly well. Sadly there always seems to be someone else in the room to throw off the equilibrium. But tonight the space around them is blessedly free of interlopers and Curt just wants to bear his neck and let Maxwell exsanguinate him.

His lover buries his nose in the blonde hair at the nape of his neck inhaling with a low growl that makes Curt reach back to him, gripping his hip and pulling him in tight. The bite he receives makes him whimper high in his throat.

Maxwell pushes him forward and spins him in place, fingertips ghosting his jaw, thumb pulling at his lower lip. The brief touch of tongue to the tip of his thumb lights Maxwell's eyes up from the inside. Dark lashes sweep up and the blue of his eyes go almost black with lust in the dim backstage lighting.

A long, pale finger hooks the tip of Curt's chin, lifting his lips to meet the searing heat inside. Maxwell is satan himself, quickly sealing the deal for his soul by crushing their mouths together. He clutches at the slender shoulders of his extraterrestrial lover, fingers pressing into the expensive fabric of his jewel encrusted bolero jacket, opening up and tasting every inch of his hot, silken mouth.

Reluctantly, Maxwell pulls away when the need for oxygen builds up and becomes overwhelming. He glances down at Curt's wide eyes, flushed face and wet, kiss bruised lips.

“Fuck me...” Curt growls, nosing under the pale jaw, brushing small kisses to the skin there. He drinks in the feeling, this deity of a man swallows, he's breathing, existing on the same plane as mere mortals. It makes him dizzy and thirsty.

“Here?” He asks.

“Shit yes.” Curt barks out feeling his throat tighten.

Maxwell wraps his arms around him and kisses him hard, vicious, it shakes him and his legs collapse under the attack. Maxwell takes his weight and lowers them to the chartreuse shag carpet next to a hideous paisley couch.

Curt bows his back as Maxwell slowly undress him, no small feat considering how tight his leather pants are. Kisses trail down his stomach before his lover backs up to remove his jacket. Blue eyes never leave Curt's body, skimming over the exposed pale flesh that feels overheated.

Maxwell descends on him, braces himself on his elbows, palms pressed against Curt's ribs to press torrid kisses into his mouth, biting his lower lip and delving in deep to claim him. His unearthly paramour diverges from his lips to trace the line of his throat, biting gently at the soft noises rumbling within it as slender fingers run through his hair.

There is a blue halo around Maxwell's head, backlighting making the sweeping crescents of his eyelashes darker that a moonless sky. Trailing kisses ignite the skin on his chest and stomach, as he sinks his hands into the cobalt hair above him.

Maxwell bites at his hipbones and then laves the marks with his tongue until Curt's back arches off the floor. Maxwell clasps onto his lower back forcing him to hold the position while a hot mouth envelops his cock. Fingers flexing against his lower back and ass, trailing downwards towards the molten center of him.

Curt moans at the suction and Maxwell's ensuing chuckle sends vibrations through his aching flesh. His tormentor releases him with a wet pop to bite into his inner thigh making him whimper and squirm, pulling on blue hair to get the slick heat back where he needs it.

Large hands travel down his ass to the back of his thighs to push his legs up and open expelling all the air from his lungs. They don't do this, never have. Not that Curt minds, Brian is a ferociously enthusiastic submissive and Curt has never had any objection to being in charge. But this feeling of being completely vulnerable, open and wanting, he can see how someone could become addicted to teetering on the knife's edge of desire and disaster.

The first heated breath over his balls causes him to clench down, nails digging into Maxwell's head. The sweep of tongue over his perineum releases a breathy noise of pleasure from his mouth. He can practically feel the predatory smile as he pushes down into the waiting finger that slides slick into him, Maxwell can't hold in the moan, he answers louder and needier, because this sensation is totally new yet primordial in a way that stirs him to his core.

Maxwell's tongue slicks against him forcing in alongside his finger, Curt emits a noise that's high pitched and piecing. The demon stabs at him with his tongue, pushing his legs even further up, tongue setting up an intoxicating rhythm.

He feels his legs shaking, arousal making him hot, the heat under his skin almost suffocating. His movements become frantic against Maxwell's face, hips rolling in time with the thrusts of his tongue. The only noise in the entire room are his sharp, unrestrained, needy wails and the wet, sucking, obscene sounds of the supreme being in between his legs.

His breath hitches as Maxwell touches something inside him that sets off sparks at the base of his cock. No one has ever made him feel like this before, so jittery, so wanton. The sensation reminds him of electronic shock therapy pinpointed with the accuracy of a world class assassin. He digs his nails in and cries out in desperation. The fact that this marvelous alien is the first one to ever coax this out makes him want to weep in gratitude.

Maxwell slides another finger inside, grinding into that spot and laves his rim with soft, wet kisses, lapping at the clench around his fingers. Curt's climax hits him hard sending his hips bucking. Maxwell strokes his clenching muscles and kisses the base of his pulsing cock through it until he is loose and boneless.

He feels fingers slide out of him and his legs falling to the floor as hears the zipper being pulled down, it dawns on him that Maxwell is still wearing pants, which how did that happen? He levers his top half up, weight on his elbows to reciprocate but gets pushed back for his effort.

"You stay there" Maxwell pants out as he frees his erection from the leather confines of his pants. Slender fingers moved against Curt's slick, puffy hole, pressing against the muscle before sliding inside with little resistance, a cry ripping from his throat as Maxwell strokes his own cock blindingly fast. It takes almost no time before Maxwell's come splashes against his skin, covering his stomach.

“Fucking hell, where did you come from?" Curt whispers, falling back as his lover collapses on top of him. He can feel the tremors of trembling thighs, the tacky, stickiness of their combined release between them, the harsh exhales, and it feels like most exquisite high he's ever experienced.

*****

Years later Curt will think back to that night as his momentary seizure of love. There is always fondness, but the bittersweet nostalgia of having touched the stars only to watch them implode outweighs any regret he might have felt.


End file.
